


Fade to Red

by amaryllis_radiata



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, SasoDeiWeek2020, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaryllis_radiata/pseuds/amaryllis_radiata
Summary: When Deidara was nineteen years old his soulmark lost its color.
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Fade to Red

When Deidara was small, before he’d even started classes at the Ninja Academy in Iwagakure, his father had died. Not all that unusual given his profession as a shinobi and rank in the Explosion Corps. Many Iwa nin were dying in the War, but Deidara’s mother had been inconsolable. One of Deidara’s first memories was of holding his little brother’s hand while his older brothers tried to support their mother on the walk home from the funeral. 

He could remember one of the other woman in the village speaking behind her hand to her husband what a shame it was that his mother had lost her soulmate at such a young age. 

When Deidara was seven years old he’d overheard two girls in his class giggling over a book. They’d tied red strings to their pinky fingers and declared to the rest of the class that they were soulmates. Deidara might not have even recalled the incident if their instructor hadn’t reprimanded the girls, declaring that soulmates were only ever a man and a woman and to remove the string immediately. One of the girls had cried. 

Deidara had set fire to that teacher’s hair the next day. 

When Deidara was thirteen he’d been on a mission for the Tsuchikage with his team. It was boring, just acting as lookouts on one of the many roads into Earth Country from Wind Country. One of the boys had asked dreamily if Deidara and the others thought Kurotsuchi might be his soulmate, to which he had scoffed. Koishi, the only girl on their team, had asked him if he even had a soulmark. 

“Not everyone does, you know. And some people are born waaay before their soulmates or don’t even meet up in this lifetime.”

“Soulmark? You’re making that up, hmm.”

Koishi had glared at Deidara for that. “You’ve got one on the back of your neck, idiot! Unless you tattooed a perfect red circle there.” 

“I do not!”

“He does,” the boy, Saseki, said after pushing Deidara’s hair out of the way to look. Deidara had slapped his hand away and might have punched one of them if their captain hadn’t told them to drop it. He found himself positioning a hand mirror to check once he’d gotten home from the mission later that week. As Koishi had said, a round, dark red mark was positioned just under his hairline on the nape of his neck. It was hollow as though he’d been marked with the stamp and red ink some artists used to sign their work, but the signature itself was missing. 

Had he always had this mark? He briefly considered asking his mother, but dismissed it. She wouldn’t have noticed, anyway. Deidara wondered if his soulmate had just been born and promptly decided he didn’t want to know. He didn’t really like girls to begin with, much less an infant girl. 

When Deidara was eighteen he noticed that the mark wasn’t hollow anymore, but completely filled in with the same red. He’d thought about asking Sasori what he thought about soulmates and soulmarks, but dismissed it out of hand. The other artist rarely entertained conversation unless it centered around art. Instead he’d asked Konan in passing, and she’d leveled a stare at him for a long moment before finally breaking her silence. 

“Soulmarks exist. I’ve heard they can change after you’ve met your soulmate, and their mark usually mirrors your own in placement. They lose their color if your soulmate dies.”

Deidara had wanted to ask her more, but the pain carefully masked in her tone kept him silent. 

When Deidara was nineteen years old his soulmark lost its color. The pale white sheen of his skin reminded him of a scar, and he was glad he’d always worn part of his hair down to hide it so he wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone, especially not to Tobi. 

Sasori hadn’t left many things behind at the hideout, but Deidara had found the red stamp showing his scorpion signature amongst his things. Deidara couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away.

He’d died not too long after that, but annoyingly his life had been given an encore. 

The cave he and Sasori had been ordered to wait in was cold and damp, something Deidara might not have really noticed if his former- current?- partner hadn’t complained about it after the sun had gone down. The indignity of being treated as nothing but a tool by a former enemy had been bothering Deidara more, but he supposed suddenly being brought to life in a form he’d willingly cast aside was probably a bigger insult to Sasori. He’d pushed himself up from the rock he’d been perched upon to sit down beside the red head, grinning at the indignation that immediately flooded Sasori’s face. 

“Doubt it’ll get much warmer, hmm. We are dead.”

“If it won’t help then there’s no point in you sitting on me, brat.”

Deidara rolled his eyes, but huddled in closer anyway. “I’m sitting  _ next _ to you, Danna. I could wrap my arms around you and see if that warms you up a little more.”

There was something exhilarating about watching the embarrassment color Sasori’s face for a moment. As a puppet his partner had still been expressive, but human emotions were made for human flesh. Deidara risked his luck to lean back and rub a hand over Sasori’s shoulders, pausing only when he spotted the red circle peaking out from the hair covering the base of his neck. He forced himself to move again, allowing the friction of his movement to create heat as Sasori’s shoulders slowly relaxed. 

“Sasori-no-Danna, what do you know about soulmates?” Deidara could feel Sasori’s gaze on him, but he ignored it and continued rubbing circles over the older man’s back. 

“Suna didn’t really tell that fairytale to its children when I was being raised there.”

“Konan believed in them. She believed in soulmarks, too, hmm.”

Sasori was slowly starting to smile disbelievingly. “Nonsense.” 

“I might have agreed if I didn’t have one myself.” He paused for a moment, debating whether he really wanted to have this conversation after all. He took an unnecessary breath and continued. “When my soulmate died it lost all of its color and just looked like a scar on the back of my neck, but no one really noticed because I had so many scars by that point already.”

Sasori’s expression had shifted, nearly unreadable aside from a subtle frown. “I had no idea you were such a romantic, Deidara. You always seemed so focused on your art. I never considered you might have had time for a girlfriend.”

“See? That’s the thing, Danna. It doesn’t seem that your soulmate has to be the opposite sex. Maybe they don’t even have to become a romantic relationship when you find them.” Deidara pulled his hand back and pulled his hair away from his neck, showing Sasori his mark. “What’s it look like, hmm?”

Sasori was starting to look more annoyed as time went on, but he leaned back to look. “That’s not a scar, Deidara. Looks like a tattoo.”

Something in Deidara’s chest felt tight. He forced a grin instead. “That’s funny, maybe my soulmate has returned from the dead.”

Sasori’s brows furrowed further. “What’s the point in this, brat?”

“Soulmarks appear in the same spot on each of the soulmates’ bodies. Sasori, do you know what’s on the back of your neck?” Deidara drew two kunai, ignoring the way his partner tensed and handing one to Sasori before gently pushing his hair out of the way to catch the reflection of the red soulmark in the face of second kunai. Sasori started to twitch away, but seemingly changed his mind as he held the kunai up to mirror Deidara’s.

There was a long moment of silence before he lowered it again and offered the kunai back to Deidara. Deidara huffed out a sigh. “You really want me to believe you didn’t know, hmm?”

“When I turned myself into a puppet it was not there. If it’s as you say, you probably hadn’t been born yet.” 

Deidara breathed in a sharp gasp. Sasori had admitted to him a long time ago how young he’d been when he’d turned himself into a puppet, and he’d earned his moniker Sasori of the Red Sand by the time Deidara had been born. Deidara carefully let Sasori’s hair fall back over the mark, fingertips brushing lightly against it. 

“Guess that would make sense, hmm.” Deidara pushed himself up, not sure what to do with the constricting feeling creeping up his throat, but pacing and kneading his clay had never failed him before. He had only made it a step when he felt a small tug on his cloak. When he looked down, Sasori’s hand was clutching the hem, the redhead’s expression just as surprised as he felt. 

“This... doesn’t really change anything, Deidara. Even if... even if we really were- are- soulmates, we’re both dead.” 

Deidara couldn’t remember a time he’d heard his partner sound so uncertain. He tilted his head as Sasori slowly met his gaze, wide hazel eyes dark in the dim light of the cave.  
  


“Guess we’ll just have to do better next time, hmm.” Deidara found himself grinning at the shock creeping onto Sasori’s features. 

“I suppose so,” he responded. Deidara snorted and plopped himself back down beside the puppet master, ignoring the sounds of protest he made. This was how they’d always been, after all. 

Deidara just hoped that they might get a little longer together in the next life. 

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with this prompt for uhhhhh awhile. Sasori’s birthday is soon so maybe I should write something for that as well? Idk! Hope you enjoyed reading.


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